teen gothic
that imagined space you’d
take up here if you were here
when it’s chill night and your blond ghost’s
infrared and real and I could grab you now
before at last
you’re finally gone
and the wind
stops and your accident hasn’t happened yet
tonight
when you fling your face
into the cold water of chance and breathe
it tears my lungs, too, and your facades are
printing everywhere
printing on me
that intimacy we knew
before we met and infinitely diverged